


i will always love you

by sirensongs (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sirensongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis had given up on everything and then he saw a pair of piercing emerald eyes and suddenly nothing meant something again. They feel happiness, true electrifying and crazy happiness but no matter how strong their bond, both boys know that summer can’t last forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will always love you

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really hope you like this. It’s my favorite thing I’ve ever written. Ever. So yeah, I got the idea awhile back ago and I had to write it (I originally posted it to my tumblr, senseandstylinson). Feedback is much, much, much appreciated! .x  
> and you can check me out on tumblr at http://sugarandstyles.tumblr.com ♡

_***_

_I thought I’d never make it. I thought hope was nothing more than a ship without a compass. I thought my pen would never touch paper to create significance. I thought I’d be trapped, I thought there was no more to me than a Pabst Blue Ribbon can and a lit bowl in this crass apartment. I thought there was no way I’d find light in anything ever again, that the sunlight was my enemy._ _  
  
And then I met him. And he was everything. He lit up the room, he walked in and nobody could ignore him. He thundered, he cracked, he glimmered. His bright green eyes were electric. The mess of perfectly disorganized curls atop his head were forever. If heaven existed I’d found it. His voice was genuine, he meant what he said and he said what he meant. He smiled and his eyes were clear, and when we met I knew there was never going to be anyone else. And he knew, too. Everybody knew it. I always got the sense that he was conflicted between his magnificence and his mind. There was this energy, this magnetism, that I couldn’t explain. I couldn’t control it or ignore it. I couldn’t take it fast enough, I couldn’t wish it back any more than I do. His charisma and his effortless charm, the way he walked and the way he talked like he was a divine being without realizing it. And I remember seeing the wheels turning, the sounds roaring and the wings disappearing into the cloudy pink sky and I knew he couldn’t stay. And I loved him. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him.  
  
And I still love him. I love him._

_-_ **o** _-_

Louis Tomlinson, twenty years old and as naive as the day was long. He had to admit it to himself because he’d only heard it enough times to truly detest the term. It was still true. Louis was naive, maybe even stupid at times. He was a free spirit. A chameleon with the ability to change and the desire not to.   
  
Words stuck to a page for Louis, he didn’t have to try, he didn’t have to shed a tear over it. He could sit down and open his laptop, flicking away at the keys like some well tuned instrument and the words simply meant something. They just meant something, everything. And he couldn’t feel it, he couldn’t see it, but he heard it so many times he just started to believe it.   
  
Big dreams brought Louis to New York after university didn’t seem so good of an idea. Chasing the words across the Atlantic ocean, Louis was struggling. He was always struggling, just barely making it. Always had been that way, from when he was youthful. And he was still youthful but he knew innocence was lost and he knew he was grown in too many ways.  
  
Niall came along with Louis. Because that’s what your best friend does. Your best friend has to be just as fucked in the head as you, just as electrifying and crazy as you. And Niall and Louis were the two best friends you’d ever seen. Louis’ constant quick wit and Niall’s infectious sense of humor seemed to fit together like some sort of unique lock and key.  
  
So they lived in a shitty apartment in Brooklyn, their rent barely making it every month. Louis couldn’t keep his jobs, no matter how hard he tried. That’s what he’d say, anyway. He didn’t try. Not enough. He knew it, though. He wanted to write, he wanted something to write about. That was the whole fucking point of moving to New York!  
  
He had arrived with three suitcases and Niall’s family sent the rest over for them. It wasn’t that Louis’ family wasn’t supportive, because they were, but they just didn’t fully understand. They didn’t want to encourage it because they were scared, but Louis knew beneath their fear they had faith, they had hope. He saw it in his mother’s shining eyes as he kissed her cheek before he left, knowing maybe it was the last time he would see her.   
  
They didn’t have anywhere to live, they had nothing. Louis had a friend, though, named Liam who lived in Brooklyn. And so they stayed with Liam. And Niall and Liam hit it off. They really did. And Louis might’ve felt like he was intruding on them most of the time because their heart eyes and party lips were sometimes too much to watch but Louis was never really home.   
  
He was always hustling his art, trying to sell a painting or two. He was sitting in the park, reading a book or trying to find inspiration. It never came. He’d light an American Spirit and, fuck, he knew he shouldn’t but the chilling effect it had on his lungs helped him keep calm. He would sit in a cafe, trying to write, trying to just find something, anything. And occasionally he’d work as a waiter or a busboy or a dishwasher or a host or whatever he could find that month.   
  
There was no escaping the truth. Louis’ life was far from the glamorous escape he’d envisioned. And there was no denying that Louis had to get his life together because he couldn’t keep burdening Niall and Liam, they didn’t need it. And though they never said it, Louis was sure they didn’t want it.  
  
Niall tried to help Louis. He tried to help him think of things to write about. He tried to come up with stories and characters and settings but the woodland ideas Niall had were far from the stories Louis wanted to tell. Louis wanted to write like Lolita or Whitman. He wanted to explore his darkest thoughts, his deepest desires and the break between him and society. He wanted to portray it through a narrative but his life was hardly worth writing about. And it was like Louis just craved the words, he craved to see his words bound by a spine and cover, he wanted to show his family that he could do it.   
  
Louis was simply used to life being shitty. He’d gone through an array of things growing up, things he didn’t like discussing with anyone. Niall barely knew everything about Louis, though it took lots of time and lots of trust. Trust. The word that Louis just didn’t care for. On his wrist, above a few permanent marks, he had tattooed ‘trust no one’ because he had learned over time that the only person worth trusting is yourself. He did trust Niall, though, he had to admit. And he was slowly starting to trust Liam.  
  
Louis hated himself for doing it but it was a rough day. He wasn’t on any medication for his anxiety or depression, he couldn’t afford it and he didn’t have any sort of insurance. He was fucked. So, wanting to rid himself of the pain, he propped his window open, sitting on the sill and overlooking the bustling street. Nobody noticed him, of course, which was how he preferred it anyway.   
  
Children were playing with a dog and a mother was bringing groceries from her car. Louis wondered if the children should’ve been in school but then he realized it was June and that meant summer. He missed summer, he missed the happiness he was sure he must have once had.  
  
Not wishing to hover over the thoughts anymore Louis brought the pipe to his lap, unzipping a tiny baggie and tightly packing the contents into the bowl. Louis took it to his lips, lighting it and inhaling with everything he had, holding it in for a few moments, enjoying the music playing in the background. And then he exhaled. And he repeated over and over again until the bowl was cashed and he had no more to take him away.  
  
Louis was a bit tolerant by then, he could function pretty normally at that point and so he decided he’d hop on the subway and take a trip to Midtown. He wouldn’t have figured it to be a good idea if he weren’t high, but he did it anyway, not telling Niall or Liam, just leaving. They were used to that, though.  
  
The city was a lot to handle when Louis was high. He sort of hated it, really. He didn’t enjoy how stressful it made him, all of the various people bustling around. They all almost had the same face and yet different voices and clothes and they all had different feelings, some were mad and some were happy and it was too much for Louis to handle.  
  
There was no comfort in the busy city so Louis ducked down a few streets and into a small cafe he’d never seen before. Some sort of bistro or something, he wasn’t sure. There was a small voice in his head saying he was an idiot and that he should just go home and sleep or something, but instead he waited in line patiently until he got to the counter.  
  
Louis was lucky that it took a while for his turn to come, or maybe it was the weed, because he was having a difficult time reading the menu and forming complete thoughts about the items presented to him.  
  
“What can I get you?” The woman raised a brow to Louis and he could tell she didn’t feel like dealing with another red-eyed kid.   
  
Louis shrugged, “Could I have a ham and cheese on white bread? And a coke?”  
  
The woman nodded, “Nine thirteen.” Louis didn’t realize what that meant until he saw it on the small display in front of him. $9.13 and so he reached down into his pocket and then he sighed, realizing that in his daze he’d left it on his dresser or on his bed or in the kitchen... He didn’t know where it was, actually.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Louis huffed, patting at his other pockets. “Sorry, I—”  
  
“I got it,” A deep, raspy voice behind Louis seemed a bit irritated. Louis turned back and saw there was a tall, olive skinned boy with gorgeous curly brown hair. He was holding up a ten dollar bill.   
  
Louis would have argued with him, bantered and said something like ‘Oh, I can’t!’ if he weren’t stoned and starving, but he was so he simply whimpered: “Are you sure?”  
  
“Yeah,” The boy said, shoving the money into Louis’ hand and pushing his fingers closed around it.   
  
“Thanks,” Louis said, his face flushing magenta and his eyes burning. He gave the woman the money and let the boy behind him collect the change. Louis turned to face the other boy, his lips parting to offer a wide smile. “I really, really appreciate it...” Louis said. “I can pay you back...”  
  
The curly haired boy swatted at nothingness in a slow motion, “Nah, don’t worry about it, mate.”  _Curious_ , Louis noted. This boy had an accent that was like his in this city: Different.  
  
Louis was sitting at a round wooden table before he could even remember how he’d gotten there. And he was scribbling words down into the small little journal he kept in the back pocket of his acid wash denim cut offs. To any onlooker here was a boy, tanned and golden, hair quaffed over his head and chocolate in color, draped in a Jack Daniels t-shirt and some vintage-esque shorts. To any onlooker he was another hipster artist, another wannabe. But Louis didn’t care, he just wanted to write in that moment.  
 _  
There is something so calmingly freeing about coming to the realization that you are nothing. Something so captivating about the notion that you have nothing. Something so disarming about the efforts that you put into gaining everything and crossing the threshold empty handed. You see yourself in the mirror and you see shards of your broken self just barely pieced together. The person you see isn’t the same as the person you were, the person you’d like to be. You’re warped, tangled, frozen.  
  
It’s as if there was so much pain that in the face of the purest darkness you can only feel serenity in knowing there’s nowhere to go but up. Because you can remember when your thoughts were your only friends. You remember when even they whispered to jump. The dry apathy demonstrated by those around you is not imaginary and you know that. You know that trust is a figment of make-believe. You know that euphoria is temporary and it has its consequences. You know that you’ll lose it all once you have it and you know that there’s just nothing left to worry about. The tugging at your brain is halted and you’re free.  
  
Something keeps you present, keeps you awake. Whether you want to be sleeping or wide-eyed you can’t help but see the light through fog. Running through a thorny maze of vines, the pain inevitable and you could stop it at any moment but you’re too fixed on hope. The end has to be better than the journey. The destination must be so enriching and fulfilling that sadness has no weapons and shining resurrected emotions reflect only the happiest memories you have. Struggles will be proved worthy, esteems will be granted approval.  
  
There’s no such thing as someone sweet or naive anymore because you may believe innocence exists but innocence is like paradise, just a fantasy, just a dream. You shouldn’t be able to fear love but I find it terrifying. A horrifying kaleidoscope of happiness and sadly mistaken bliss, just to peel at smiles, embrace, and then it descends, crashing down into the darkest nothingness you’ve ever had to imagine. Then it just seems like what’s lost can’t be found but the cyclical prison remains constant, but do you let yourself be a slave to the repetitive, poisonous injection or do you trade it all for freedom?  
  
_ “Louis,” The curly haired boy’s deep voice was once again crawling down his neck and Louis jerked back.  
  
“How do you know my name?” He whispered, noticing the boy has a tray of food in his hand and he was sitting down across from him.   
  
“Louis,” The boy said almost mockingly, a smile creeping across his face. “You gave it to the cashier when you made your order, remember? Haven’t you heard them calling out your name for the last five minutes? I only just decided to get up and bring it to you myself...” The green eyes stopped shifting around playfully and then they were set on Louis in a certain confidence. “You all right?”  
  
The older boy slid his journal back into his pocket and then nodded, gladly sliding the food across the table so he could get a go at it. “Thanks,” he raised a brow, letting his voice linger as he anticipated the name of the curly haired boy.  
  
“Harry,” he offered finally, his eyes still focused and sharp. “I think you’re a bit out of it...” He sighed, “What have you used?”  
  
Louis laughed, “Oh, Harry. Only a little ganja. It’s all right I’ve done it all the time.”  
  
Harry nodded very slowly, adjusting himself in the seat and settling his chin down into his folded hands. “Louis, do you mind if I help you home after you’re done eating?”  
  
This elicited an excited laugh from the older boy as his cheeks bulged, full of food. “You’re joking! It’s just  _weed_. I’m honestly fine.” But the truth was that he wasn’t and he knew it. He was willing to bet more than anything that he’d gotten some strong grade medical or K-2 because this wasn’t normal, he was tripping out a bit and he wasn’t in the state he should’ve been in.  
  
“Seems like maybe it wasn’t exactly what you thought it was,” Harry offered. “Are you sure? I’m staying with a friend who lives in Gramercy and if you want you could just come over for a little bit...” He raised a brow as Louis finished off the sandwich and started to sip on the straw.  
  
Louis shook his head, “No, no. I’m sorry, Harry. I really appreciate you getting me food,” he was beginning to laugh a bit and he didn’t know why and he didn’t know why even though he’d just had some coke his mouth was dry. He didn’t know why he felt heavy and he felt sleepy and awake at the same time. He stood up to leave and realized he didn’t know it happened but he was suddenly stumbling out into the road and he was jerked conscious by a loud blaring horn and the squeal of rubber against cement. Harry’s hand grabbed Louis’ arm and he looked right into his deep green eyes.  
  
“Think you need a lie,” Harry offered.  
  
Louis, noticing what had almost just happened, rid himself of any other judgment and simply nodded. “Sure.”  
  
- **o** -  
  
“It’s  _fucking_  Colorado Medical!” A tanned guy with tattoos was crying out, examining a small little baggie that looked very familiar to Louis.   
  
Louis shot up, unsure of where he was, and instantly raised his brows. He still felt like he was coming down from the high. The only thing that helped him retain focus was the suddenly familiar voice to his left, a deep and sincere voice.  
  
“It’s all right, Lou.”   
  
 _Harry_. Louis could remember that much. He was in what must have been a guest bedroom in a pretty nice apartment in Gramercy. Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed with the tanned guy and he simply patted Louis’ foot under the covers. “It’s all good.”   
  
Louis sighed, “What is going on? Why have you got my weed?”  
  
“You gave it to us,” The other boy said through a gritted smile. “Do you remember who I am at all?” He laughed as Louis showed no immediate recognition. “Name’s Zayn, mate.”  
  
“Oh, that sounds familiar,” Louis echoed. And it did. “Zayn, hmm. And Harry.”  
  
“And Louis,” Harry said with a sly smile. The room was a pale grey and was nicely decorated with modern furniture, sharp corners and soft fabrics, nice textures and patterns, all neutral colors.  
  
There was a moment of silence before he looked over to see the clock on the mocha bedside table. “Shit, it’s late.” How had it already gotten to be six in the evening? He was slightly embarrassed by what had happened, though he couldn’t even clearly recollect it.  
  
“You were tripping hard on this stuff,” Zayn explained. “You have any idea how intense fucking medical is?” He shrugged, “I wouldn’t advise you smoke it anymore...”  
  
Louis muttered something to himself. That fucking sucked. He’d spent money on it and it was money he couldn’t have afforded to spend on it anyway. “I won’t...” He said, denying Zayn’s motion to return the bag. “It’s fine.”  
  
Zayn nodded, standing up and then walking over to the bedroom door, “I’ve gotta date, I’ll be back later.” He waved to Louis and Harry before closing the door behind him.  
  
A moment of awkwardness floated around. Harry didn’t know what to say. Louis didn’t know what to say. And so they sat there, Louis under the covers and Harry perched on the edge like a small bird.  
  
“Thanks,” Louis mumbled, ashamed of himself. “I’m not usually such a fucking  _wreck_ , I’m so sorry.”  
  
Harry’s eyes glowed and his lips rose up into a delighted smile, “Don’t be sorry! I’m sort of glad I met you. You’re hilarious. I could use some more friends, anyway.”  
  
“I’m sure you have loads of friends,” Louis offered.   
  
A few curly locks fell over Harry’s eyes and he pushed them away with a frown. “Well, maybe, back in Cheshire. But over here I don’t!”   
  
“Cheshire? Where’s that?”  
  
“England,” Harry said. “I’d think you’d be familiar. Your accent’s a bit more northern, I suppose.”  
  
Louis huffed, “Well what are you doing over here if your friends are in Cheshire?”  
  
Harry laughed, crawling up to lie down next to Louis, being careful to avoid touching him in case it would make him uncomfortable. His shoes were somewhere on the floor and he crossed his ankles, his hands settled on his chest as his eyes traced the ceiling. “I’m on holiday for the summer. Zayn’s my step-brother and he lives here. He’s a doctor. So he lets me stay with him sometimes. But this is my last summer being able to come because I’m going to be working full time and going to uni next year.”  
  
“You’re not in uni yet?” Louis said, suddenly a bit shocked. “How old are you, Harry?”  
  
Harry sighed, “Eighteen,” he almost grunted it. He seemed dissatisfied. “You’re twenty. You told me a bit earlier when you were all giggly.”  
  
“Anything else I told you?” Louis asked with a smirk.  
  
“Nope,” Harry said. And Louis believed him because he didn’t have the face of a liar and he didn’t have the guard he was used to seeing on people. Here was Harry, a young boy who just was on summer holiday, enjoying the city and seeming like he was so pure and innocent. But Louis was always telling himself, and others, about how that was impossible. How there was no such thing as innocence. And so Harry had Louis questioning himself.  
  
And of course, Louis was gay, that was pretty much obvious. He didn’t try and hide himself or anything and he never denied it. But he was now confused because he did, indeed, find himself a bit attracted to the younger boy. But was it wrong for him to think of him like that? He was two years younger, surely no big deal. Wouldn’t be wrong to think about those soft, pink lips and how they’d feel around him.  
  
“So what do you do, Louis?” Harry finally asked, sitting up.   
  
Louis sighed, how embarrassing. “Whatever I have to, I guess...”  
  
“Like a job, I mean.” Harry added.  
  
“I know, that’s what I meant. I don’t really have one.”   
  
Harry watched Louis’ eyes and he felt like maybe he’d said something wrong. Maybe he should’ve just told Harry he did have a job because this seemed like torture. Harry was young and he probably was already thinking  _ha_ , _I’m already better than he is_. “That’s okay,” Harry decided. “You have a place to stay, though, right?”  
  
Louis chuckled at that one, though he wondered how homeless he seemed on a realistic scale. “I do. I live in Brooklyn with my best mate Niall and my other mate Liam.” He didn’t see their romantic relationship as something important enough to bring up into a random conversation like this. He didn’t know how Harry felt about homosexuality, so he just kept it quiet. Though, Louis was pretty sure Harry didn’t mind because while Louis wasn’t a sparkling fairy princess, he was not one to sport camouflage and combat boots.  
  
“You’re not from here, though,” Harry said, though the way he said it was in a sort of questioning way.  
  
“Right,” Louis confirmed. “Moved here last year. Been living the dream.”  
  
“Writing?” Harry asked, his eyes fixed on Louis.  
  
Louis’ ears perked up and a frown formed, though he was sure he must’ve been frowning more than he was smiling those days anyhow. “How’d you know I write?”   
  
“Saw you writing at the cafe,” Harry said slowly. “You were really into it. Seemed like something you liked a lot. Do you write stories or is it a journal or—”  
  
“Just sort of personal,” Louis said shortly. He noticed Harry’s eyes dim a bit and so he blinked hard, “Sorry, I just don’t usually talk about my writing...”  
  
Harry smiled to Louis and then he nodded, “Well I’m sure it’s great. And if one day you want someone to read it, I’ll do that for you.”  
  
Chuckling, Louis smiled down at the blanket over his legs, “All right, Harry.”  
  
- **o** -  
  
Two weeks had passed since Louis had heard anything of Harry. He knew where he could find the curly haired boy and he even questioned if he should go and ring the buzzer. He’d walked by the apartment building a few times on the way somewhere, but it was purposeful and out of the way and Louis knew he must have been mad. He felt a bit bad because Harry had mentioned how he wanted to be friends with Louis and Louis had just thanked him kindly and left that evening.  
  
Here he was, twenty years old, struggling, fucked up and focusing on these gorgeous green eyes that had just up and came out of nowhere and basically saved his life. And he was only eighteen, so young and fresh and new to things. And Louis wanted desperately to spend some more time with this enigmatic character, this charismatic being who was somehow unlike every other monster he’d ever encountered.  
  
The sun was out, it was hot as hell, and Louis was lucky to not be drenched in sweat as he sat out in the park, reading some children’s fantasy novel in search of lewd inspiration. He was wearing a pair of blue shorts with a black t-shirt, an American flag stamped across the front. He took pride in his thrift shop finds, like the Polaroid camera that sat down in the grass next to him. He’d snapped a photo of a few kids throwing a ball and he decided he’d label it ‘fun’. He didn’t know why because it wasn’t his idea of fun, but that was the point, he guessed.  
  
Louis felt a vibrating in his pocket and he pulled out his phone. It was an older iPhone, jailbroken and using crappy service. But it worked. He didn’t recognize the number but it was indeed a New York area code. So he slid it unlocked and held it up to his ear.  
  
“Hello?” Louis folded his book between his fingers and stiffened up as he heard the voice on the other side of the phone.  
  
“Hey, Louis?”   
  
A dry, raspy voice. Almost bellowing but it wasn’t that low, it was just deeper than Lou’s.   
  
“Harry?” Louis nearly gasped. “Harry, is that you?” The number must’ve been Zayn’s.  
  
The other boy chuckled into the phone, the static making it a beautiful noise, so crumpled and imperfect and yet intricately defined. “It’s me.”  
  
“How’d you get my number?” Louis immediately wanted to take that back. He’d sounded accusatory and that wasn’t his intention at all. He just was curious and he said the first thing that came to mind to avoid awkward silence. He was sure he hadn’t given Harry his number when he left Zayn’s flat that night... There was no mention of a ‘next time’ or anything, so he didn’t anticipate this in the least.  
  
Harry laughed again, “I might’ve used your phone to call mine when you were passed out after your trip. So I got it that way...” Louis was surprised. He actually had put some effort into that and people putting effort into anything having to do with him was new to him. “Is that weird? Shit, I’m sorry.”  
  
“No,” Louis snorted, “It’s not weird. It’s sorta... Nice of you. To care.”  
  
Harry didn’t say anything for a bit and Louis wondered if maybe saying it out loud made Harry realize he really didn’t care. Wouldn’t be the first time it’d happened so Louis just sat there, waiting for a response, his lips tightened.  
  
“Yeah,” Harry tittered. “Well, I wanted to make sure you’re all right and that you’re not tripping out on anything. Know how many fingers you have?”  
  
Louis pressed his hand to his forehead, Harry kept making him  _laugh_  over and over again and he was just so content with that. “Very funny, Curly.” There was another slow pause and Louis decided this time he wanted to be the one to break it. “Harry how long are you on holiday here?”  
  
“Just until the end of July,” Harry’s voice sort of shook a little. It wasn’t awfully noticeable and only someone who was familiar with that hitch in their throat as they always had to speak an undesired truth, only someone familiar with that would recognize it. And that’s why Louis did.  
  
“Ever been to Coney Island?” Louis didn’t know why in the hell he was doing this. He was going to spend time with this kid and then he’d get attached and then he’d go back to Cheshire. What a brilliant fucking idea.  
  
Harry swallowed, “Nope.”  
  
“What?” Louis squeaked. “Never? Never been to Coney Island?” Louis went to Coney Island with his grandfather during their trips to Manhattan. When he was a child, before his grandfather passed. “I love it there... Do you want to maybe go with me?”  
  
Harry’s eyes must’ve been lighting up on the other side of the phone, Louis could just picture it, the green becoming more and more vibrant as Harry’s voice simply sounded so energetic and his calm, cool, and collected demeanor was shaded. “Yeah, Lou! That would be awesome!”   
  
Louis felt a genuine shock of happiness in that moment. He knew he was the reason for someone else’s joy and he couldn’t deny that his body stopped aching and betraying itself, berating its thoughts and desires. The relief didn’t last long but Louis noticed it and he wasn’t going to forget it. He knew there was something about Harry, there was something absolutely majestic about this boy and he made Louis feel an array of emotions he’d never felt before.   
  
One day, Louis knew, he’d be writing about this day trip to Coney Island.  
  
He and Harry were happy in each others’ company. It was an enjoyable experience, basking in the fiery sunshine and the refreshing breeze with the knowing feeling of a taller, starry eyed boy walking next to him. Louis wanted to kiss Harry. He wanted to kiss Harry more than he had ever wanted to kiss anyone in his whole life.  
  
Louis tried to buy Harry a corn dog and a coke, but Harry insisted he could do it. He told Louis that his parents were way too liberal with him when it came to money, that he had more than he needed and he would be more than happy to treat Louis.  
  
There was something so intriguing about Harry. There was something so alarming about his unintentional honesty and reverence. Harry didn’t mean to be so amazing but he was just able to rival a Greek god with his adjusting bone structure as he chewed or spoke. Harry didn’t mean to make Louis blush as he wiped mustard off of his lip, and he didn’t mean to have that impossibly unique gleam in his eye.   
  
They stood there on the boardwalk, eating their corn dogs and sipping their sodas laughing at any and everything, planning what they’d do next, exchanging smirks and giggles.  
  
Even with Harry being the refreshing, unapologetically real eighteen year old boy that he was, he still caught Louis by surprise. It was unexpected that he looked to Louis, taking a sip of his coke and the Wonder Wheel catching the sun behind his curls, and let his eyes focus on Louis’ before smiling. “Is this a date?”  
  
Louis’ jaw would’ve dropped but he had to give Harry more credit than that. He should’ve realized that this boy, this fantastic being was not just honest and kind but smart and it would’ve been insulting to his intelligence if Louis had questioned Harry’s instincts. He didn’t want to ask Harry if he was gay, it seemed implied. “Want it to be?” Louis managed, unsure of the right thing to say. He did want it to be but he had to be sure Harry was on board.   
  
“A lot,” Harry’s face flushed red and he was looking down at the boardwalk beneath their feet.   
  
The yelling all around them seemed to fade away, the music and the carnival games, it all seemed to stop for a moment. The wind seemed to slow down for them and the smells all blended into one euphoric smell. Louis didn’t know the last time he felt this happy without any drugs, without any alcohol, he just had this young man in front of him who genuinely helped him to feel so wanted.  
  
“Me too,” Louis smiled, looking to his feet after his eyes locked with Harry’s. Louis didn’t know when he’d turned into this middle school girl with a stupid crush, he didn’t know when he’d given up his edge and his strength and his will. He hadn’t believed in heaven or hell but now he knew otherwise.  
  
Harry took Louis’ hand, walking him back up toward the concessions. “Want some ice cream?” The way Harry asked as they got in line for a vendor, Louis couldn’t resist so he simply chuckled and nodded slowly. He didn’t even like ice cream but having it with Harry was just something completely different.  
  
They sat on a bench on the boardwalk, overlooking the water and sharing an ice cream cone. Louis wasn’t sure why he was so comfortable. He didn’t even know Harry. Well, after their day he’d begun to understand the complex character that he was. But he was so much more than anything Louis could comprehend. Tall, tan and strong, inside and out. Harry was letting Louis lick from the cone when he’d lightly tipped it upward into Louis’ nose and they both just laughed and the moment was golden.  
  
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Harry asked, his arms were outstretched on the bench, one keeping Louis securely close to him.   
  
Louis simply laughed, “That’s crazy, Harry.”  
  
“Humor me?” Harry said.   
  
So Louis shrugged, “Maybe.”  
  
Harry wasn’t satisfied so he re-adjusted himself, turning a bit to face Louis and he furrowed his brows. “Doesn’t this feel like something to you? Something different? Like when we were on those dodgy, rusty rides we had each other so we were invincible? Like nothing else matters really because we just get each other?”  
  
“You’re eighteen,” Louis snickered, his smile catching Harry’s eye.  
  
“You’re twenty,” Harry argued. “And you feel it, too. So don’t say that.”  
  
Louis nodded slowly, his eyes falling on Harry’s lips. “Okay, you’re right. It does feel...  _Different_...”  
  
Harry smiled, feeling accomplished and so he and Louis sat there, enjoying each other amidst the chaotic brilliance. And Louis had in his pocket all of the Polaroid’s he’d taken of the day, mostly of Harry, the most beautiful subject he could imagine.   
  
- **o** -  
  
“Louis one day will you write about me?” The green in his eyes danced around and Louis realized it then and there, lips pressed to a bottle in the summer air.  
  
“I’ll write about you always, Harry.” Louis decided. There was a moment of silence and then Harry leaned in and pressed his lips slowly to Louis’ and it was their first kiss. Neither boy had felt the moment was right, but here, in the park, four days after their Coney Island escapade, Harry decided it was time.  
  
And Louis was so glad. Harry’s lips were a softness that he never wanted to forget, a melting sensation came over him and it was like he was lying in a bathtub and a jolt of electricity shot through the water, sending shocks down each leg: over his hips, his thighs, the backs of his knees, each tender calf, wrapping around his ankle and constricting as it finished off on each toe. He felt the sensation slither down his arms to his fingers and their tongues must’ve conducted a spark as they finally met, and neither boy could find the will to stop kissing.   
  
Louis knew Harry only meant for it to be a small gesture, a simple peck. They were in a public park but they were pretty far from anyone else and so Louis just kept his lips pressed on the younger boy’s. He knew that the kisses would one day be memories and he didn’t want that, so he just tried his best to disregard those thoughts, to just focus on the charges at hand.  
  
Harry finally slowly pulled away, “I’m glad we did that,” he said, his smile was dorky and his eyes were wide.  
  
“You’re something else,” Louis said, rolling over and lying down in the grass on his back. He pulled his thrifted Ray-Bans over his face, puckering his lips at the sun. “You know that?”   
  
“I think  _you’re_  something else,” Harry pouted, shifting to his side and placing a hand on Louis’ chest. “Suddenly this holiday seems so much more... Meaningful... So much more important.”  
  
Louis didn’t know what to think. Part of him knew he was being selfish because he was just a fucked up basket case who should do Harry a favor and end this little charade while it was young. He knew he was being improper to Harry and he was alarmingly okay with it because he felt like Harry wanted love whether it was gentle or violent, beautiful or ugly. Harry wanted Louis’ love and Louis didn’t want to deny him that, how could he?  
  
“Do you want to...” Harry lifted his shoulders a bit, “Maybe wanna go back to Zayn’s flat? He’s at work...”  
  
Louis’ eyebrows rose. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”  
  
“Probably,” Harry teased, biting down on his bottom lip and smiling wide.  
   
And before they knew it they were undressing in Harry’s bedroom. It wasn’t really decorated very much, just a few things he’d stuck up on the walls to remind him of home, and Louis was interested in seeing them but not in that moment. He didn’t know if this was exactly romantic, he didn’t know if it was the way it was supposed to be, but he wanted it and Harry wanted it and so it was going to happen.   
  
Louis stood next to Harry’s bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, looking over to Harry who was clad in his large Rolling Stones t-shirt and tight black boxers. The shirt was barely higher than his briefs and Louis just loved the sight. Harry had nice golden legs, long and slender and determined with every step. Harry was pulling water bottles from the fridge and then he was back in the bedroom, shutting the door and looking at Louis, handing him one.   
  
Taking the water bottle, Louis unscrewed the cap and took a sip of it, keeping his eyes locked on Harry’s and then he placed the bottle on the dresser. “Perfect,” Louis said, bringing himself over to Harry and tossing his arms around his neck. “Thanks,” he purred into his ear, poking his tongue at the lobe and biting ever so gently, ever so softly. His lips moved slowly to Harry’s jaw, and then his chin and as Harry’s hands grabbed Louis hungrily their lips united into a kiss.  
  
“You make me crazy,” Harry grumbled into Louis’ mouth, taking his hands and grabbing Louis’ ass and picking him up right off of the ground before carrying him onto the bed and letting him settle onto his back. He wasted no time, climbing on top of him and letting his tongue spark with Louis. It was like tonguing a battery, but more intense and it didn’t stop, it just kept sparking and it kept giving and giving and giving.  
  
Louis was palming Harry through his boxers, the thin material was no match and Harry was writhing, just wanting something,  _anything_. So Harry withdrew from the kiss, letting Louis follow him up as he sat on Louis’ knees, and Louis pulled down the boxers hungrily. He saw Harry and he was appreciative of the beauty. He enjoyed the sight and he wanted to remember it forever. He began to stroke him slowly, teasing him with infuriatingly light touches, causing Harry to break eye contact and throw his head back, teeth gritted and jaw strained. The fingers trailing the head were too much and they were hardly doing anything at all.  
  
Louis grasped him, engaging in rhythmic pulses. He watched Harry as he bit down on his lip, letting his tongue slide over it eventually and glazing it in a very transparent layer of spit and it was beautiful. Finally, Louis let his tongue begin to explore and he knew he was just torturing Harry at that point and so he simply took the length in his mouth, bobbing up and down and letting Harry buck into him a little, letting him feel like he was in control. Harry’s hands were running circles through Louis’ hair and as he seemed to be stirring an awful lot, Louis pulled off. Smiling up at Harry and lying back down.  
  
Harry crawled off of Louis, tossing his boxers across the room. He still had his top on, the large white t-shirt was practically sticking to his sweaty skin and the large red lips and tongue remained. He pulled the shirt over his head and then reached down to help Louis out of his own boxers. Louis handed Harry the lube and condom from the bedside table and he seemed to know just what to do. He had Louis’ legs wrapped carefully around his waist, his hands were shoved into the mattress on either side of Louis’ face and he leaned down and gave the boy a kiss as he let his right hand reach back to guide his head in.  
  
Louis’ face scrunched up a bit and he let it fall back, but he liked it, and Harry could tell by the way his legs tightened around his waist. Harry could tell Louis liked it by the way he pulled at his back and felt for his ass in a hunger he’d never seen. Harry was thrusting into him, the sound of bone and flesh colliding and their low and harmonious moans, and every now and then Harry would hit a special spot in Louis and he’d cry out in a higher pitched howl, pleasure sprawled across his face as his eyebrows would lift and his mouth would curl up into a tight and appreciative smile.  
  
It wasn’t long before Harry was helping Louis, reaching down and letting him come onto his own stomach, and with a few thrusts Harry’s toes curled and his calves strained, his stomach was tight and he was coming, his head resting on Louis’ chest as he finished with a few final thrusts and then pulled out, disposing of the condom.  
  
“That was nice,” Louis decided.  
  
- **o** -  
  
Louis decided that it was about time Harry got to meet Niall and Liam. They’d conveniently never been home when Harry came around and so Louis made it his priority to set up a little get together. Niall and Liam were more than happy to meet Harry. Niall had been absolutely annoying about it, asking every day since Louis first mentioned him. At first Louis didn’t want the meeting to happen because he didn’t want to add another level of attachment but he realized it was already beyond that.  
  
The clock struck ten and the record player was on. Niall was pulling the tab of his beer open and cuddling up next to Liam on the couch, chuckling about something his boyfriend had said. Harry was on his way and for some weird reason Louis felt nervous. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t get along; Niall and Liam were easy enough to like and so was Harry. It was just that Harry was so important to him and so unique, so special and magnetic and he hoped with all of his heart that his friends would appreciate him in the same way.  
  
Harry was like a taste of real life that Louis never imagined existed. So when there was a familiar knock at the door, Louis raced to open it and let the boy inside. Niall shot up from the couch rushing over to Harry. “Harry, this is Niall,” Louis gushed. He watched as the two boys smiled to each other.  
  
“Nice to meetcha,” Niall grinned. “Heard plenty ‘bout ya.” And Louis hoped he’d stop there and luckily he did. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already said to Harry himself but he didn’t want to sound like a certified stalker.  
  
Liam rose right behind Niall and introduced himself to Harry, shaking his hand. “What would you like to drink?” He offered, gesturing toward the kitchen.  
  
Harry gladly accepted a Natty and followed the guys to their living area, sitting down on the loveseat with Louis. “It’s really nice to meet you guys,” Harry said slowly, his large hand gripping the can and he brought it up to his lips, smiling to Louis.  
  
  
Niall nodded, “So what do ya do, Harry?”  
  
“Well I’m actually getting ready to go to Uni,” Harry said. “I’m going back to England after the summer.”  
  
Liam furrowed his brow, “Oh, that’s right, Lou mentioned that. Do you not want to do Uni here?”  
  
Harry shrugged, “I never really considered it. I reckon there are different exams and stuff you have to take... And I don’t know if my parents would want me to or not.”  
  
They left it at that and Louis was glad because he didn’t want to think or talk about Harry leaving anymore. That was unbearable and unnecessary and altogether heartbreaking.   
  
“Liam got me a PS3,” Niall announced to Harry. “You like video games?”  
  
“Uh,” Harry sort of looked to Louis who was just fighting laughter. “I don’t really play much, but—”  
  
Niall shot up, grabbing Harry’s arm and dragging him back to he and Liam’s room. “You  _have_  to try out COD, it’s right fun, mate!” Louis and Liam laughed, following them back. Originally Louis and Niall shared a room but once Niall and Liam started to date, Niall just slept in his bed once and never stopped.  
  
The rest of the night was a drunken mess of Harry being unpredictably amazing at video games, shooting every enemy he had to and putting Niall’s scores to shame. He apologized profusely through a wild laugh, receiving approving winks from Louis.   
  
Louis couldn’t have been happier because the four of them got along like they had all been friends forever. Louis suggested inviting Zayn but Harry said he’d be working at the hospital, so it was just the four of them, Louis and Liam on the bed and Niall and Harry criss-cross on the floor with the remote controllers tight between sticky palms.  
  
Louis was sure to snap a Polaroid of the two playing their video games, laughter practically flowing out of the photo as he shook it out.   
  
The night ended well, with Niall and Liam in their room with some sort of hip hop music on, while Harry fucked Louis into the mattress with Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Born to Run’ echoing in the background against their rhythmic moans.  
  
  
- **o** -  
  
And then it was two weeks later that Harry and Louis were sitting down in a small Italian restaurant, eating and discussing their plans for the future, that Harry surprised Louis again.  
  
Louis was surprised to be surprised by the wide-eyed boy. He was truly an enigma, truly undiscoverable in most facets and totally unique. He was special and totally unpredictable. So he looked over the table at Louis, his eyes bright and warm.  
  
“Remember when I asked you about love at first sight?” Harry asked, digging his knife into his chicken. He was wearing Louis’ Jack Daniels t-shirt. He’d told him it was one of his favorites and it just barely fit him, because it was a bit large on Louis, but he’d let him have it because in the back of Louis’ mind he knew he wouldn’t be with Harry forever and so at least he’d have this, he’d have this piece of him.  
  
The older boy chewed his food, trying to keep from blushing as he allowed a slight nod.   
  
“This is love.” Harry announced. He smiled, “I love you.”  
  
And Louis shouldn’t have accepted this. He should’ve known better. All those years of learning to trust no one and here he was offering his entire heart to some eighteen year old boy on summer holiday. Logic couldn’t overcome the heart and Louis spoke his true feelings, no hesitation and no guilt.   
  
“I love you, too, Harry.” It was everything he could do not to reach across the table and grab Harry’s cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. “I don’t know what it is about you.”  
  
Harry simply licked his lips, taking a moment to think. “Everything happens for a reason, huh? There was no way we were both at the bistro that day on accident.”  
  
Louis shuddered at the thought. “I’m sorry about that, again.” He was mortified to remember how Harry had to pay for his meal and then escort him home because of his ferocious trip.  
  
“Please don’t be,” Harry urged. “That’s one of the best days of my life so far.”  
  
  
Could Harry be any more adorable? And Louis questioned all of his writings on innocence being lost because as he watched Harry focus so intently on his chicken and then smile at the thought of love, Louis wondered if maybe not  _everyone_  was fucked in the head. And Louis knew Harry was youthful and alive and he was enjoying his life and he was happy with Louis.   
  
“So now we’re in love,” Louis said with a raised brow, taking his napkin to his lips.  
  
“We’ve been in love,” Harry said.  
  
Louis nodded, “You’re brilliant.” That was all he could think to say because it was just so true. And in all of the writing he’d gotten done since he’d met Harry he was always mentioning his brilliance, how he seemed to shine and how he could never imagine a sadness on that perfectly sculpted face. It was sad fact, however, that Louis knew all too well that nothing could last forever.   
  
Polaroid after Polaroid had piled up on the desk in Louis’ bedroom, and he hadn’t smoked an ounce of weed or any cigarettes since that trip to Coney Island. He hadn’t even wanted to. He just wanted to see Harry and feel the warmth of their bodies together because just feeling wanted was enough to take the edge off of anything that synthetics could.  
  
As they sat in that small Italian restaurant, the stringy instrumental music seeping through the background, Louis wondered if he was stupid. How could he have fallen absolutely head over heels in just a month?  
  
- **o** -  
  
Harry and Louis walked out of the 7 Eleven in Gramercy and Louis hated everything. He hated how he knew what was coming. Harry only had three more days with him, then he’d be back to England. It was the first time he’d felt so absolutely helpless in quite a while and he questioned why he surrendered himself to this emotional suicide. Why had he allowed Harry to capture his heart?  
  
The taller boy was driving a red ’65 convertible Impala. Louis didn’t know how the boy had convinced his wealthy parents back in Cheshire to allow him to rent a vehicle or how he was licensed but he didn’t question it. All Louis wanted was to just love Harry. He just wanted to love him and never have to leave his side, he never wanted to have to say goodbye but he knew better than anything that their days were numbered.  
  
Louis stuck his Mountain Dew between his legs and threw his hands up, his retro sunglasses shielded him from the dust and the wind was freeing. The Beatles were guiding them down the open road and Louis was singing along, the wind in his hair and Harry’s hand on his thigh. They kissed and then they stared at each other. Louis had never seen such a God. Aviators against tan skin, a crooked smile and a toothpick between his teeth. Harry kept a hand steady on the wheel, watching the road again and pushing his foot against the pedal hard.  
  
He’d heard that when you find true love it lives on. He heard that it was inevitable that love would haunt him, tease him and frighten him, but he wasn’t ready for that. He just wanted to enjoy this for now, he didn’t want to consider that this would be yet another memory. So he threw his head back laughing as Harry stuck his tongue out for the Polaroid. Louis shook it out in the wind as they drove. They just drove and drove until finally they were they were meant to be.  
  
They walked the boardwalk together, trying not to speak of their impending fate. They rode the Wheel and they ate cotton candy and drank soda. They lived in each other’s eyes. Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off Louis and it almost hurt. Louis knew it was like he was trying to get the best mental photograph so he wouldn’t forget him. He didn’t want to admit it but he was doing the same thing, studying each of Harry’s facial features.  
  
Birds were tiptoeing the telephone wires and they sizzled and cracked and Harry just slowly lifted the ice cream cone to Louis’ lips, watching him as he licked off some. “I’ll miss this.” Harry finally spoke about the fact that he wouldn’t be there forever and it seemed to make it even more permanent.  
  
“I wish you could stay,” Louis whispered.   
  
Harry simply frowned, “Me too. But my mum and dad... I have to go to uni.”  
  
“I know,” Louis said with a smile, and he’d never had to put  _so_  much effort into just using the muscles around his lips. Louis wanted to offer something like ‘We’ll keep in touch’ but he knew it was in vain because the reality of things was that it just wouldn’t work. He just wanted to make the moment last forever instead, and the sun was slowly disappearing and they were lit by the neon of the rides. The smell of various salty and sweet fried items would remain with Louis forever, he’d never forget how Harry’s eyes lit up when they rode the teacups, or when they were sitting next to each other on the carousel. It was like this moment was meant to be, so why did it have to be so temporary?  
  
Harry seemed to sway in the wind as they stood back near the same bench where Harry had asked Louis if he believed in love at first sight. Back then he was unsure, a bit skeptical, but now he knew otherwise. He knew he’d never find anything like this again.  
  
Then they were leaving and Louis hurt. He hurt as he could feel every beat of Harry’s heart, they held hands and Harry’s eyes were set on the road in front of him, his eyes full of tears and his cheeks staining. Louis tried to speak but he couldn’t find words, he could only stare, dumb and pained. Harry looked to Louis, sadness pouring down his cheeks and around a frown Louis never wanted to see.  
  
“I love you,” Louis said, in a hushed sort of whisper, taking Harry’s hand in both of his and leaning over to kiss him, and he knew it was dangerous and they could’ve died as Harry’s eyes shut but for that moment it didn’t seem to matter. As Louis sat there, both hands around Harry’s trembling fingers, he fought hard against his own tears, not wanting Harry to see him like that, not wanting to make it any worse than it already was.   
  
And they sat in silence on the way back to Louis’ where they put on a record and fucked, the smell of Pabst in the air and they fell asleep tangled up in each other.  
  
- **o** -  
  
The day comes too fast. Louis hadn’t ever wanted to just sleep through anything so badly in his entire life, but he knew he couldn’t do that. He’d spent every waking moment with Harry, and when he woke up that morning and noticed that his side of the bed was bare, he felt the panic that he realized would soon become constant.  
  
“Harry?” Louis called, wandering around the flat in a tank top and some tiny athletic shorts. “Harry?” And then he saw him, fixing coffee in the kitchen, the dingy cabinets seemed lighter and happier with Harry near them. The wood didn’t seem to be decaying and the peeling wallpaper seemed more alive.  
  
“Three hours,” Harry whispered, clutching Louis as they embraced.   
  
  
Louis simply nodded into Harry’s neck, “I know.”  
  
So Harry and Louis drove the Impala to Zayn’s, the city traffic slowing them down and allowing them time to stare into each other’s sad and understanding eyes. People were hustling down the sidewalk, running into each other, yelling things, some were smiling but they were far and few between and so it made Louis sad. Sad to think of life going on as Harry was back in England. Sad to think of this beautiful creature’s departure from his life. He was the best thing that ever happened to Louis.  
  
They couldn’t find words to say, they just took up his things from the apartment, Zayn and Harry having a rough goodbye. Zayn squeezed Louis’ shoulder and told him to rock on, but Louis didn’t know if he’d be able to.   
  
Harry’s hair in the wind drove Louis mad. He’d miss it all so much. He’d miss the smell of the boy, a fresh sort of pine and floral fragrance about him he’d never met before. He’d miss Harry forever, he’d never forget a moment he spent with him.  
  
And then they were at LaGuardia and Louis was going to have to drive the car back, leaving Harry to find the gate and board the plane. But he couldn’t do it. How could he? He looked to Harry, his bags by his side and his lips trembling.   
  
“Kiss me,” Harry murmured through tears. “Hard.”  
  
Louis didn’t waste another second and he didn’t care that there were people around, he just did it. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and didn’t want to ever let go, their tears colliding and their lips pressing together and sending that same jolt of electricity down Louis’ body. How could he possible give this up? He felt Harry hold him in his big arms and he just wished, he just wished with everything he had, that summer could last forever.  
  
He wished he could just spend every day with this beautiful boy in Coney Island.   
  
“You’re the best,” Louis wiped away at a tear, pouting his lip out and stepping back slowly from Harry.  
  
Harry nodded, “I’ll miss you.”  
  
“Forever,” Louis cooed, and though he wanted to just look down at the floor and cry he kept his eyes steadily locked on Harry’s.   
  
“Shhhh,” Harry comforted him, pulling him in for a hug. “I love you.”  
  
“I love you, too.” Louis cried into Harry’s chest, and they kissed one last time, Harry’s soft pink lips allowing Louis to feel that rush of joy just like he had every time before. And they had to part. They had to. So Harry picked up his bags and he turned away.  
  
“Thank you for everything,” Louis said quietly, more to himself, as he watched Harry walk away. And he didn’t look back. Louis knew why but he waited as Harry disappeared, just in case there was a chance he’d change his mind, but that wasn’t possible.   
  
Louis’ walk to the car was solemn and heartbroken. All of the happiness he’d just had was completely void of him, gushed out of his body in those final moments like blood. And so he drove. He drove and drove.  
  
- **o** -  
  
 _They found him a few weeks later. Zayn told me. He’d jumped. The bridge was nothing to either of us but it suddenly became something I couldn’t bear to think about. He was wearing my Jack Daniels t-shirt. His favorite. And he’d carved into his own skin. All down his arm. I wish he didn’t do it, because I always held out a small amount of hope that maybe we’d be together again one day. But he knew more than I do, I guess. Though he was so young he was wise beyond his years. And even if he’s gone I’m gonna drive, I’m gonna miss him forever. I’ll never stop writing about him. I’ll never forget our final kiss, our final words. I’ll never forget the memories. I cry when I see the Polaroids hanging on my wall but I can’t take them down. They’re meaningful. Harry made my life art. He made my life worth living. And I don’t know how long I’ll make it like this, but I’m going to make sure I document him. Make sure I let everyone know of this beautiful young man with irresistible curls and caring eyes. The single nicest boy I ever met in my life. The only one I’ve ever loved. And I still love him. Summertime will never be the same, but I owe everything to him. If I am feeling weak I just remember what they told me he’d done to himself. The letters intricately carved into his skin: “I will always love you.”_


End file.
